Wrists
by Healer Sanina
Summary: A offshoot of Thought's story, OneUpmanship. About Abby's reaction to Kate's death.


**Wrists**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters. Duh.

**A/N:** Thought told me to write fic. I did. Don't sue me.

Abby wandered through her house, searching for answers. It had only been days since Kate died, but Abby already felt like a lifetime had passed. Everyone had been hurt by Kate's loss; why was Abby the one who was depressed? Not that depression was weird for her, she'd lived with it for much of her life, it was just that this was worse than usual.

She sunk down to the floor in the kitchen, then reached up and grabbed for something to end her misery. Surely there was something that would make a difference to her. Surely there was something. Abby gasped as her hand reached the knife block. She pulled the nearest knife out and brought it down to her level. The thin silver blade called to her as it had the first time she had had these thoughts, back in the eleventh grade. Abby set the knife down and turned her hand over. Thin silvery scars graced the inside of her left wrist, tracing the path the vein made through her body. She hadn't had the nerve to slice the actual vein that time though she had been hospitalized for weeks while the skin grew back around it. Abby's hand dropped to the ground as she thought about the implications of what she was about to do.

Since that day in the eleventh grade, Abby had never considered inflicting visible damage on her body. She had popped pills, consumed more coffee and alcohol than she should have been allowed, but she had always drawn the line at inflicting pain in a manner others could see. Now though, that damaging lifestyle wasn't enough. Kate was dead. If Kate deserved to die, Abby could see no reason she should live. With that thought, she lifted the blade and drew it across the white skin on the inside of her wrist. She traced the original scars first, then gathering courage, slashed the knife across the vessel that lay exposed, floating in the warm blood that her body carried. Knowing that blood loss could damage the muscle, Abby braced herself to finish what she had begun while she could still grasp the knife in her injured hand. A quick slash, and both wrists bled profusely. She set down the knife and leaned against the counter, willing the pain to last and the blood to take its time in draining away her worthless life.

Pumping, pumping. Her heartbeat became more pronounced to her as she visualized the blood flow. One ventricle at a time, her heart beat. Thump, thump. Thump, thump; the only sound she was capable of associating with life.

Impacting people's lives, wasn't that the whole point of living? Since most of the people her lab worked with were dead, she wasn't really impacting their lives. No one at work cared about her and the people at the out-of-the-way clubs she frequented were usually too doped up or depressed to care about one other measly person. Probably her body wouldn't even be found until they had their next case at the office and the lab tech was discovered missing. It would be a week before anyone even noticed she wasn't there. At her funeral, there would probably be only her coworkers. They would show up to be polite, and once she was in the ground, throw a party and forget about her. She kept telling herself that story, causing her life to lose the small purpose it did have.

Throughout her ceaseless mental wanderings, Abby kept noticing that there seemed less mental area to wander in. She began to feel claustrophobic within herself, then lost even that. Her consciousness was slipping, hopefully for the last time. As Abby was almost lost to the comatose state she desired, she heard a sound; she heard the doorbell. Then, all was black.

Gibbs was feeling lost without Kate. She had been one of his best agents, and had been an important part of the team. The team. They would be feeling lost as well. He had to check on them. As the leader, he was responsible for them. He hadn't forced any of them to attend grief counseling. With that abrupt thought, he leapt up and grabbed a large key ring off the hook. He counted the keys and breathed a sigh of relief when he knew he had a key for each of his agents that just happened to open their doors. No one had noticed when he borrowed their keys and copied them. Hopefully no one minded now.

He grabbed a jacket and jumped in his car, checking the first address on his list. Abby just happened to be top. That was going to be fun. The goth girl would probably shoot him before she would allow him to use a pirated key to enter her home. She probably had blood splashed on the walls. That would be just in the girl's range of tastes.

He pulled up at the door of the apartment complex, and bypassed the security by flashing his NCIS badge at the building's super. Racing up the stairs, Gibbs remembered his earlier thought that Abby would probably shoot him, then brushed it aside as a feeling of impending doom hit him. He doubled his speed.

Reaching the door, he rang the bell, then jammed the key in the lock and twisted, praying that she didn't use a deadbolt or chain. He was in! Just as the door swung open, he heard a weak groan, he rushed toward the sound. Recoiling in horror as her glimpsed the kitchen, Gibbs swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat. He may already be too late!

Abby was sprawled against the cabinets in a sea of her own blood. More of the warm red fluid leaked onto the floor with each beat of her already feeble heart. If there was a chance she would survive, Gibbs had no chance to call an ambulance. He wrapped a blanket around her body, and hauled her down the stairs to his car. Throwing her on the backseat, he leapt in front and sped through the city, praying he would reach the hospital in time.

Several near misses later, he drew up in the emergency bay parking. Nurses and security guards rushed up to get him away from the ambulance bay, the straightened to brisk, well-trained assistants when they saw the NCIS logo and the bloody woman in the back. They pulled Abby from the back seat and rushed her into the surgery. Gibbs was left alone, pacing as he waited to hear whether he would lose a second agent that week or not. He didn't think the team could stand another loss. Abby may have been a little odd, but everyone viewed her as a friend. A somewhat caffeinated and hyper friend, but a friend all the same.

Nurses rushed in and out of the room where Abby was all night. Out of respect for what she had been through, he didn't tell anyone where he was when he used the phone to call and ensure everyone else was alright. He paced in front of the room, waiting, waiting for answers. Finally, a doctor emerged. He was smiling. Was it an apologetic, she didn't make it, smile or was it a hooray! we succeeded smile?

The doctor spoke. He said, "What do you know about this young lady, Agent?" That wasn't an answer to Gibbs' worries.

He coloured, then screamed in the doctor's face. "How is she, damnit! Tell me whether she will survive before you ask a case history!"

"Sorry sir. She will be fine. We gave a blood transfusion and sealed her wrists. She is just beginning to regain consciousness. Once she is conscious, we can gauge the damage lack of blood may have caused her brain."

"Damage! My team can't afford damage! No harm better have come to her, you hear me!"

"Sir, she slit her wrists. Whether there is any physical or mental damage, I would consider being concerned with her psychological health. That is why I asked a psychiatrist down to see her. He should be here soon."

Gibbs nerve sunk with that. If they called a psychiatrist and found out about why Abby slit her wrists, there would be hell to pay. Not only would he be in trouble, but worse, Abby could be committed! "My department's psychiatrist will handle this, Doctor. As soon as she can be released based on physical health, she is to be placed in my care."

"But sir…"

"It is confidential military business, Doctor."

"Yes, sir."

The doctor reentered the room, allowing Gibbs to breathe a sigh of relief. Just in case, he kept watch over the entrance to Abby's room. No one entered the room. Finally, the doctor emerged and nodded at Gibbs. "Her mental status does not appear impaired. I will release her, but if there is a change for the worse, she must be readmitted."

"Yes, Doctor." Gibbs entered Abby's hospital room, then helped her into a wheelchair. He pushed her down the hall and out to where he had left his car. He loaded her into the car, then took her to his house and settled her in the bed in the guest room. He sat in the chair, and watched the girl's chest rise and fall as she breathed. "You're safe, Abby," was all he said as he kept a vigil by her bedside for that night and many others until she was able to return to work.

**A/N:** This ties into Thought's story "One Upmanship" Part 2.


End file.
